Concubine of the Eastern Palace (Qing Dynasty Time Travel)

Kangxi named his residence in the Bakshi Palace “Qingxu Yuyu.” The entire palace was situated on the highest hilltop of Yunshan, commanding a view of the surrounding lush green mountains and the Great Wall winding like a dragon.

The architecture of Qingxu Yuyu was distinctive. The main hall was a circular pavilion with connecting corridors on all sides, and an auxiliary hall stood to the south. The overall design featured a square exterior with a circular interior. The spacious main hall was cleverly partitioned by folding screens and silk curtains to create several sections, making it convenient for Kangxi’s daily living.

That night, Kangxi rested in an outer chamber separated by a screen, giving up the imperial bed for the Crown Prince, who was ill.

The weather in the northern frontier turned cold early, and even the moonlight seemed aloof, as if icy streams from the heavens poured down, cold to the touch.

Silence enveloped the surroundings. Even the occasional footsteps of the night watch eunuchs were imperceptible. In this stillness, Kangxi tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Gazing at the high-hanging moon outside the long window, he uncharacteristically began to reflect on himself.

Seeing the Crown Prince ill, lying pale and breathless on the bed, Kangxi felt a pang in his heart. Only then did he notice how young and slender the prince still was. Stripped of his usual composed and dignified demeanor, his vulnerability lay bare.

Even in his illness, the prince instinctively called out for “Father.”

Kangxi sighed silently. His Crown Prince was still just a half-grown child.

He had always hoped the prince would match him. Kangxi had ascended the throne at eight and subdued Oboi by the age of fifteen or sixteen. He had endured countless hardships and suppressed unimaginable grievances. Therefore, he demanded much from the prince, expecting him to surpass even himself.

Yet the prince seemed more like his mother, Hesheri.

When the prince was only two or three years old, he clung to Kangxi incessantly. Even when Kangxi had to attend court, the prince often made a fuss about going along. Thus, many times, while Kangxi attended to state affairs, the prince would play in the back hall with the eunuchs, waiting for him to finish. Upon Kangxi’s return, the child would gleefully rush over on his short legs, brimming with questions: Why do birds fly? Why are clouds white? Why does Father have to hold court?

Sometimes, when court sessions dragged on too long, the young prince, bored and stubborn, would demand to be carried. His tantrums terrified the servants, who fell to the ground kowtowing in fear. Yet Kangxi simply chuckled at the prince’s puffed-up face.

In the end, Kangxi did crouch down and carried the prince on his back, listening to his innocent prattle all the way back to Qianqing Palace, his heart brimming with warmth and affection.

Back then, Kangxi felt that he represented the present of the Qing Dynasty, while the future of the entire dynasty lay on his back.

As the Crown Prince grew older, Kangxi gradually realized that his personality and way of dealing with the world were completely different from his own. A vague sense of disappointment, like a seed buried deep in his heart, sprouted and grew taller each time this awareness surfaced.

Gentle, affectionate, benevolent, and tolerant — Kangxi wasn’t sure if these qualities were suitable for a ruler. Yet these traits made the prince shine like gold among his many brothers. It also made Kangxi understand that the prince was unlike him. He might not be a conqueror, but he had the makings of an excellent preserver of the dynasty’s achievements.

On this otherwise ordinary night, Kangxi suddenly came to terms with it.

The legacy of their ancestors, passed down through generations, needed rulers who conquered new lands and rulers who maintained peace and stability.

In the past, he had been too attached to the idea of molding the prince in his image. But the Qing Dynasty didn’t need a second Kangxi. It needed a wise emperor who could unite the Manchu and Han people and drive continuous reform. Kangxi’s only duty was to ensure that the prince would become such a ruler.

With his heart finally at peace, Kangxi felt a wave of drowsiness, and the green shoot of disappointment that had grown in his heart was uprooted entirely.

After a light sleep, Kangxi was suddenly awakened by the sound of heart-wrenching coughing from the inner chamber. He quickly got up. Inside, Yinreng had been forced to sit up, leaning weakly against the bedframe, coughing uncontrollably.

“Baocheng?” Kangxi approached and touched his forehead, finding it scalding hot. He immediately prepared to call for the imperial physician but was stopped by a sweat-soaked hand.

“Father…” Yinreng’s fever had muddled his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he was trapped in a recurring nightmare — hearing his father’s angry rebukes, witnessing his own tragic fate, and reliving A Wan’s death from heatstroke. His vision blurred with sweat, allowing him to see only a faint outline of his father. Instinctively, he clutched tightly to the hem of Kangxi’s imperial robe.

“Father, if I have done anything wrong, you can punish or scold me, just please… please don’t abandon me…”

Kangxi was taken aback, a faint ache stirring in his heart. Gently, he said, “Silly child, you’re talking nonsense because of your illness. How could I ever abandon you?”

“When I was little and couldn’t write well, you taught me over and over again. When I couldn’t draw the bow, you practiced with me repeatedly… Now… in the future… please continue to teach me… I will learn well…” Yinreng rambled incoherently. Though Kangxi couldn’t fully grasp his meaning, Yinreng soon collapsed back onto the bed from exhaustion. As Kangxi leaned in to adjust the quilt, he faintly heard Yinreng whisper, “Don’t give up on me.”

Stunned, Kangxi sat by the bedside, silently watching over him until Yinreng fell back into a peaceful sleep, unable to move for a long while.

The next morning, Kangxi summoned Liang Jiugong. “Investigate whether someone has shown disrespect to the Crown Prince.”

Liang Jiugong, with a solemn expression, bowed and acknowledged the command.

Yinreng’s delirious words from the previous night lingered in Kangxi’s mind. He couldn’t determine if it was merely a fever-induced nightmare or if someone was secretly scheming against the prince. This was a matter of grave importance, and clarity was essential.

Kangxi’s paternal instincts were fully awakened by Yinreng’s desperate pleas. When several princes requested permission to visit the ailing Crown Prince, Kangxi dismissed them with increased academic assignments, confining them to their studies in the palace to prevent any mischief.

As for the officials, Kangxi was even more cautious. Until the situation was clear, revealing the Crown Prince’s true condition was out of the question. The heir’s position was so pivotal that even the slightest rumor could cause public uproar and destabilize the court — let alone news of a sudden illness.

At dawn, Kangxi rose with the rooster’s crow. After practicing buku for half an hour in the courtyard, he washed, changed clothes, and summoned the imperial physicians before breakfast to examine Yinreng and discuss the treatment plan. Fearing they might hesitate to prescribe potent medicines for fear of repercussions, Kangxi carefully reviewed their prescriptions himself. Only after meticulous consideration did he instruct Li Dequan to personally oversee the preparation of the medicine in the imperial pharmacy.

Watching Yinreng consume the medicine, Kangxi felt his forehead again and, seeing the fever had subsided, nodded in approval. “I usually have you practice riding, archery, and martial arts to strengthen your body. It seems you haven’t slacked off — your health is still strong. Look, you’ve recovered from the fever now, haven’t you?”

Yinreng’s complexion was still pale, but he forced a faint smile at Kangxi’s words. “Thanks to your guidance, Father.”

After waking, he had only managed a few sips of rice soup. His stuffed nose and persistent cough dulled his sense of taste, making him reluctant to eat anything more.

Listlessly pushing away the bowl and chopsticks, Yinreng thought of A Wan. If she were here, she would undoubtedly find ways to prepare comforting dishes that would tempt his appetite despite his condition. Her peculiar ideas, which he used to dismiss, had somehow grown on him over time.

The imperial physicians believed that when ill, one should first cleanse the digestive system and expel toxins. They warned against eating food that was too warming or too cooling, lest it worsen the condition. Often, they prescribed simply not eating at all.

A Wan, however, had a different view: illness required proper nourishment. How could the body endure and recover without sustenance? She likened the body to a battlefield during illness, where internal forces resisted invading ailments. Without provisions—like grain for soldiers—how could victory be assured?

Strangely enough, Yinreng now fully agreed with her logic.

But he kept these thoughts to himself, knowing Kangxi would never listen. His father was a staunch believer in fasting as a remedy. Leaning against the bed, Yinreng watched Kangxi seated at the large desk, quietly attending to state affairs. The room was serene.

Yinreng found himself staring absently at his father’s back.

This towering figure before him gradually merged with the image of the aging emperor he had seen in his dream.

In truth, his real affliction was within his heart; his physical condition wasn’t serious. After burning with fever through the night, his temperature subsided by morning. Only a scratchy, itchy throat remained, occasionally provoking a cough.

He had finally recovered from his initial panic.

That troubling dream, recurring for the third time, had planted a seed of anxiety in him. Although he had managed to regain some composure, he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding. With time still on his side, he pondered what could have led him down such a dark path in his dream. Surely, heaven would issue warnings again. He resolved to be a dutiful prince and a filial son, taking care not to stray or falter.

Initially, he believed his greatest fault was a lack of filial piety, prompting daily reflection on whether he had shown his father enough care and striving to be the perfect son. But this latest dream shattered all his hopeful illusions.

Regicide and treason — such a colossal accusation! There could hardly be a greater crime in this world.

Leaning against the headboard, Yinreng couldn’t help but mock the absurdity of it. ‘Isn’t this accusation proof enough of my innocence?’ he thought bitterly.

If there were truly no other faults to find in him, the only way to depose the Crown Prince was to incite his father’s suspicion and fabricate a grave offense. Otherwise, how could an emperor justify to the world the removal of a prince who had held the position for over thirty years?

What puzzled Yinreng most was how powerless he seemed in that dream.

It was as if his wings had been clipped in advance, rendering him defenseless.

Yinreng closed his eyes. Yes, even he had met such a tragic end in the dream. The Hesheri clan would have fallen even earlier, and his grand-uncle was likely no longer alive either. In the dream, when confronted by the aggressive eldest brother, he had responded, “You accuse me of conspiring with Suoetu to plot great treachery.” If such a crime had already bound him in chains, what hope was there for his grand-uncle?

So that was it…

A scheme so meticulous, with every step interlinked, could never have been orchestrated overnight nor by the reckless and foolish eldest brother alone. When a wall collapses, everyone pushes it down. Beyond the eldest brother, Mingzhu, and Nara, there must have been other accomplices. He needed to uncover every one of these “others” no matter what it took!

Yinreng opened his eyes again. Despite his weary and sickly appearance, there was a terrifying brightness in his gaze.

As for himself, he had long accepted that his future would likely be filled with misfortune. But why did A Wan have to suffer alongside him, even losing her life? That pain, that regret—nothing was worse than this!

At this moment, a strange thought lingered uneasily in his mind:

Was this dream a forewarning of events yet to come?

Or were the scenes in the dream… things that had already happened?

Was that truly his future self 20 years later, or was it a reincarnation of a past life where he had died unjustly?

Perhaps it really was from a previous life—one filled with unbearable suffering, to the point where even the ancestors could not stand to watch any longer, thus allowing them to return to the beginning, before everything had happened.

The old shaman often said that people have wandering souls, which leave the body during sleep and drift far away—dreams are the result of these souls’ travels.

There are also reincarnating souls capable of shaping future lives.

Yinreng did not know which of these situations applied to him, but he knew he could not let things spiral out of control. If it were only about him, so be it—but there was also A Wan!

To be honest, he did not want to recall any part of the dream. Yet to prepare in advance and save A Wan’s life, he forced himself to carefully think through every detail after Kangxi left to meet with the ministers.

Bit by bit, he sorted out the accusations against him in the dream:

First was assaulting nobles and ministers. He had no idea why this was alleged or whom he supposedly attacked. If it had been the eldest brother committing such violence, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But this charge against him made no sense. Why would he need to personally handle such matters? Clearly, there was something deeper at play, a trap that had ensnared him.

Second was allegedly instructing Chief Steward Ling to embezzle tribute horses from Mongolia. Why would he conspire for mere horses? Since when did the Crown Prince live so poorly? Kangxi had assigned Chief Steward Ling as head of the Imperial Household Department to ensure Yinreng’s needs were met without constraint and to protect the Eastern Palace from being sabotaged. Every year, Kangxi personally allocated the best tribute horses to him. Why would he need to embezzle any? This accusation had a familiar flavor—it bore his eldest brother’s scheming hand. After all, who was the one constantly acquiring imperial steeds from their maternal grandfather?

Still, there is truth to the saying “flies do not land on seamless eggs.” Perhaps Chief Steward Ling’s greed had indeed crossed the line. Once Yinreng recovered, he would arrange a thorough investigation.

Third was the accusation of plotting treason with Suoetu. This charge was likely tied to the claim that he spied on the imperial tent at night. Otherwise, his eldest brother wouldn’t have jumped to conclude that he harbored treasonous ambitions.

However, Yinreng felt no guilt on this point—he was absolutely confident that neither now nor in the future would he entertain such treacherous thoughts. He had grown up under Kangxi’s care. When they encountered a tiger during a hunt, Kangxi had shielded him without hesitation. Kangxi was his father, and that would never change. He would rather die than commit such an unthinkable betrayal.

As for his grand-uncle, Yinreng was less assured given his volatile temper. He would need to remain vigilant. Yet he suspected this charge was baseless. The Hesheri clan was his closest maternal family; they had every reason to wait patiently for him to ascend the throne. Why would they resort to rebellion?

These accusations were a mix of unfounded rumors and vague allegations. Yinreng could already see their flaws upon reflection. So why had Kangxi not questioned them?

What had happened to make Kangxi lose faith in him?

Yinreng keenly realized that no matter the accusations, it was Kangxi’s attitude that mattered most.

The imperial heart is hard to fathom.

Yinreng smiled bitterly. In the past, he had never given those words much thought. After all, he was the only Crown Prince of the Qing dynasty, the sole legitimate son raised personally by his father, Kangxi. How could he be compared to the tragic Crown Princes of past dynasties? He had believed he would perform well, making his father proud and satisfied.

But after experiencing so much, he realized that was nothing more than wishful thinking. Time and again, he had hoped that his relationship with Kangxi could remain as pure as before—a simple bond between father and son. Yet these two dreams had ruthlessly shattered those foolish notions.

Kangxi did have fatherly affection for him, but that bond could never outweigh the grip of power. No one, not even a child raised by his own hands, could be allowed to sleep soundly beside a tiger.

Yinreng had come to accept this truth. Although sorrow filled his heart, he no longer felt lost.

A Wan’s presence in his dream had opened his eyes to his own self-deception.

Yes, A Wan… She already suffered during summer, craving the relief of the cool air. This year, they used ice daily to cool the rooms, sometimes placing three or four ice chests in one room just to sleep through the night. And yet, in the future, she would endure even greater hardship to remain by his side!

Yinreng’s eyes grew hot with emotion.

Before meeting A Wan, he had never been prone to tears. No matter how great the grievance, he would stubbornly suppress it and endure, holding onto his pride. But after knowing her, his heart had softened. Pride and appearances? They were nothing compared to her safety and well-being.

He longed to hold her, nuzzle her cheek, and hear her voice again.

But until he fully recovered, Kangxi would not permit her to visit. Besides, she was now pregnant. It was better to keep her from exposure to any lingering illness. Staying apart was wiser.

Yinreng pulled a handkerchief from under his pillow, rubbing it between his fingers before tucking it back beneath the cushion.

This handkerchief, once tied over his eyes in moments too personal to explain, carried A Wan’s familiar scent. In his feverish haze, it was all he could think of, so he had sent He Baozhong to retrieve it—never realizing it had once been used as a chest wrap…

Now, thinking of A Wan, he felt a bit embarrassed to take it out in broad daylight. A handkerchief was not something one casually displayed. So each night, he secretly held it in his palm as he slept.

Strangely enough, it seemed to help him rest more peacefully.

After four or five days of recovery in Kangxi’s residence, Yinreng finally felt his strength return. His spirits were high, his limbs steady, and aside from a mild cough, he was fully recovered.

Seeing that Yinreng could walk freely and eat two buns in one sitting, Kangxi placed a piece of shredded chicken in tomato sauce in his bowl and asked with a smile, “I plan to set off after breakfast. Are you fully recovered? Can you manage the journey?”

Yinreng immediately stood up, took a step forward, and knelt before Kangxi, responding earnestly:

“Reporting to Father! Your son is completely recovered and fit enough to ride for a full day. These past few days have caused you concern—your son has been unfilial.”

“What’s this formality with your own father? Sit down!” Kangxi waved his hand, signaling Yinreng to rise and take his seat. He continued, “Forget about horseback riding. If you catch another chill, it won’t be a joke. Just ride in the carriage with me, and we’ll play a game of chess together.”

Yinreng naturally agreed, feeling both surprised and touched. This illness had brought about an unexpected blessing—Kangxi hadn’t spoken to him with such warmth and patience in years.

Most of the time, Kangxi’s tone would have been more along the lines of: “Forget horseback riding. Ride in the carriage with me, and I’ll quiz you with a few problems.”

With the journey ahead, Kangxi had plenty to manage. He summoned several commanders and generals, finalizing the schedule and arranging the security measures along the route. In addition to scouts and personal guards clearing the way, Kangxi deployed several skilled men disguised as commoners—traders, villagers, and even beggars—who would blend into the crowds to ensure the safety of the imperial entourage.

Seeing that his presence was not immediately required, Yinreng requested leave to pack his belongings. In truth, he simply wanted to see A Wan. What might she be doing right now? Had she slept well and eaten properly during his absence?

He worried she might have lost weight without him by her side.

The thought became more pressing, filling him with an urgency to sprout wings and fly straight to her, to reassure her not to pine for him or become unwell.

Kangxi had already seen through his intentions but said nothing. After all, Cheng Gege was pregnant—it was only natural for the Crown Prince to be concerned. With a wave of his hand, Kangxi tacitly allowed it.

Yinreng, followed closely by He Baozhong—who had lost some weight but still weighed a solid 198 jin after days of just rice soup—hurried along at double speed.

A light drizzle fell, soft and delicate as silk threads, dissolving into the air before reaching the ground. It cast a hazy veil over the landscape, creating an ethereal beauty. In this dreamlike weather, Yinreng imagined A Wan eagerly awaiting his return at the palace gates.

No, better not notify the gatekeepers. If he returned quietly like this, he would surely witness her joyful surprise firsthand!

The palace where Yinreng resided was not far from Kangxi’s Qingxu Palace. A short walk down the Cloud Mountain corridor led him directly there.

Filled with anticipation, Yinreng pushed open the door.

The first thing that caught his eye was a brazier burning with crimson embers, atop which sat a large clay pot.

A rich, spicy aroma hit him the moment the door opened, enveloping him entirely.

A Wan, holding chopsticks in midair, ready to pick up a piece of meat, froze and turned to stare at him in shock.

Directly beneath her chopsticks was a bubbling pot of chicken stew.

Yinreng was equally stunned.

This wasn’t exactly what he had imagined.

“You’re back, my lord?” Cheng Wanyun looked slightly guilty but quickly stood up and helped him inside with a bright smile. “Can you eat spicy food now? This chicken is delicious!”

The Crown Prince had been ill, and yet here she was feasting inside her room. It did seem a bit heartless. But she neither knew medicine nor dared to visit the prince at Qingxu Palace. The best she could do was take care of herself by eating and drinking well.

Yinreng, after a brief moment of surprise, laughed.

Seeing her cheerful as always, he couldn’t muster any anger. Letting her press him down onto a chair, he instinctively picked up the chopsticks.

One bite in, the spicy and savory flavor hit him hard, making his newly healed throat twinge, but the thrill was undeniable. The dish reminded him of the yellow braised chicken she had made before, but it was distinctly different.

The crushed spices had fully penetrated the chicken, creating a lingering flavor. The meat was tender and succulent, accompanied by onions, bean curd sheets, corn, and various fresh vegetables. The bean curd, soaked in the rich broth, became soft and flavorful.

The highlight came when Cheng Wanyun instructed someone to stoke the fire and heat the pot again. She then added softened glass noodles to the remaining broth, cooking them to perfection in the flavorful sauce.

That bowl of thoroughly seasoned noodles reignited Yinreng’s appetite after four or five bland days. Once he finished, he lay contentedly on the warm kang bed, too satisfied to move.

Cheng Wanyun, equally full, slid over to lie beside him. Together, they let out a long sigh of contentment.

Yinreng gently massaged her stomach and teased, “How do you eat so much yet not gain weight?”

“I’ve put on a little,” she replied. The Cheng family seemed naturally lean; her father, Cheng Shifu, was tall and slim, and her siblings shared the same build. Though pregnancy had softened her features slightly—her once sharp chin now rounded—her limbs remained slender.

Today, she noticed her belly had grown noticeably, though only visible without clothes. The wide banner dress she wore concealed any signs of pregnancy.

After witnessing Wang Gege’s difficult childbirth, Yinreng thought it better not to gain too much weight. He nodded and reminded her, “Listen to the midwife. She knows everything about childbirth. If she advises you to eat less, you must restrain yourself.”

Cheng Wanyun nodded obediently, fully aware of the importance of her health.

Yinreng only stayed with her briefly. The two napped together for a short while before it was time to depart. He hurried back toward Kangxi’s carriage, feeling much more at ease after seeing A Wan, sharing a satisfying meal, and holding her for half an hour. That brief nap had been more restful than the past four or five nights combined.

Before leaving the palace grounds, he instructed E Chu, “You don’t need to follow me any further. Return quietly to the capital and investigate any unlawful activities involving the Ling family, no matter how small—from petty theft to major crimes. Record everything and report it to me. Make sure not to leave a trace. Do you understand?”

E Chu was alarmed. The Ling family? He hesitated and foolishly asked, “My lord, does this include investigating Chief Steward Ling?”

Yinreng coldly retorted, “Is Chief Steward Ling not part of the Ling family?”

Echu hurriedly begged forgiveness. “This servant was foolish.”

“Go.” Yinreng’s tone was indifferent. “If you mess this up, don’t bother coming back.”

E Chu broke into a cold sweat, dropped to his knees, and vowed loudly, “This servant will leave immediately and complete the task.”

After arranging E Chu’s task, Yinreng felt slightly relieved and walked along the line of carriages and horses stretched out in formation. Just then, he encountered the Fourth and Fifth Princes approaching on horseback.

Yinzhen dismounted first and greeted him respectfully, showing concern. “Second Brother, are you feeling better now?”

Yinreng smiled lightly. “Just a minor illness, no need for you to worry.”

Yinqi also dismounted and expressed a few words of concern. After hesitating briefly, he leaned in close and whispered, “Second Brother, my concubine Liu wants to meet Cheng Wanyun…”

Stammering, he explained Liu’s wish to befriend Cheng Wanyun. His face flushed by the end of his confession. Liu had been persistently pestering him, and if he didn’t seek clarity from his brother today, he was certain to face an earful upon returning home.

Yinreng, initially expecting something serious, chuckled upon hearing this. He had already heard from He Baozhong about the events at the ladies’ table during their recent barbecue at the Deer Garden.

The Fifth Prince was straightforward and sincere, without malicious intentions. More importantly, he wasn’t the type to be easily manipulated by women. If it had been a more serious matter, he would have declined firmly.

So Yinreng nodded with a smile. “Go ahead. It’s good for them to keep each other company during the journey.”

Yinzhen added, “In that case, I’ll send Song to join them as well. They can talk and help look after the baby in Second Brother’s family.”

Since Yinreng trusted both brothers, he approved their suggestions without hesitation.

After parting from his younger brothers, he boarded Kangxi’s carriage.

Kangxi was adjusting the chessboard. Seeing Yinreng approach, he waved him over. “Baosheng, no need for formalities. Come sit down. It’s been so long since we last played chess together. Is your hand still steady?”

Although cautious in Kangxi’s presence, Yinreng respectfully performed the courtesy before sitting down. As he helped set up the pieces, he smiled and said, “Father Emperor is busy with state affairs. It’s already rare for you to find time to guide me in chess. I’m truly delighted.”

Reflecting on how long it had been since they last played, he realized it was likely before he started his studies in the Imperial Academy. These past two years, they hadn’t played even once. But mentioning that felt too much like complaining, so he avoided the topic altogether.

“Today we’ll have a good match!” Kangxi declared.

Yinreng, striving to be the perfect son, found himself racking his brain on how to lose gracefully while still appearing earnest.

Meanwhile, Cheng Wanyun was completely carefree in her carriage. With Yinreng away, she indulged herself by snacking freely.

In the midst of her munching, Qingxing called from outside, “My lady, Consort Liu and Consort Song have come to visit.”

The door curtain lifted, revealing Liu’s bright, cheerful face and a slightly uneasy Song standing behind her.